chronicles of exile III:[crucified in the flesh]

chronicles of exile III:[crucified in the flesh]

sadistic is the twist asserted at the altar of stone

bedrock sheets held concretely between folds of skin owned

as i groan, inhaling mists of dust and renegade lust

sanctify me, i would prefer to combust into ash

but instead stash the sword into the bone of human nature

nomenclature departs from the stark raving mad world of reality

my stature is lacking in character in trying to avoid placement on the table

unable to remove myself from deviant rapture

an emerald mask is captured in suffering

this throne will not remain empty for long, a flask set upon my lips

dipped are the fingers into misinterpretation leaving a burning sensation

do not misread my deeds of humiliation, resistance is not appreciated

on the basis of negotiation, united with omission

in the commission of crimes while in exile, excommunicated

dated is the sin promulgated, maybe a hallmark of deficiency

though i have proficiency for wielding internal suppression

succumbing to palatable depressions as the monks stand by and pray

chanting, “send her far away,” i will not scramble for mercy

pursed are my lips, though i ramble in dysfunction

bleeding at this junction in two positions as i transition

awkwardly into one of me, providing a last supper for you

natural unification is due, though i do not sleep voluntarily

my entity becomes enmeshed, as i become crucified in the flesh…

~~~~~~~~

“Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves –

regret for the past and fear of the future.”

~ Fulton Oursler ~

©tk 3.18.2009

chronicles of exile II:[dawn of lies]

chronicles of exile II:[dawn of lies]


tell me please, the difference between you and me
where your road ends and mine begins swelling through a pervasive sea
transparency is clouded though my empire vowed to remain crystal clear
held upon the arrival of transferred communication, all sensibilities lost
which only costs me in the end as your charms transcend the ages
complicating stages of dignity, while our language changes
leaving me somewhat deranged on the mountaintop
where i plummet in the strangest exchange of words
united, but somewhat distant are the verbs heard across the winds
i begin to understand that maybe there is no real place for me
exclusive lands upon which to cast myself free, a separate jurisdiction
where i can plant a province of quiet separation, conversing occurs
as familiar intercourse, developing a slow occupation of territory
not for anyone’s glory, but for the sake of trust which as you know is a must
to bridge my divide and awakens security’s tide
heralding a gospel of calm spreading throughout the district of my psyche
it is likely that this border can be crossed, although i am sometimes lost
in tradition, begging for understanding of my obtuse dereliction
suspicion creeps into my confined audience lacking true radiance
disciplined in questioning, often times sequestering
methods of intervention cannot erase linguistics of disgrace
which have left an extreme bitter taste
reformed i cannot be made, stalking the blade of strategic cries
forgiving condemned in collusion with the dawn of lies…

~~~~~~~~~

“Death must be so beautiful.
To lie in the soft brown earth,
with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence.
To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow.
To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.”

~ Oscar Wilde ~


©tk 3.17.2009

exiled queen of nothingness


once upon a scream
she held you through the distance
unraveled shadowed continuum
seeing through the memories
blanket removed to yield form
though, yes, she was mangled
removed from her throne
cast into sleepless night
she cried, you understood
remembrance a gift
ocean’s age subdued
crazy were her dreams
you intervened
caught in obscene veil
she is left wondering
who, do you believe
me to be




©tk 4.29.2009

chronicles of exile I:[color me stained]

chronicles of exile I:[color me stained]


consecration of the temple begins, distortion sets in
bind the barbs to my skin, allow the thorns to pinch
cinch the ribbon round my wrist, i’ll give it one last twist
the oracle speaks in the schism that is me
you see she says, “pierce your dreams, bleed them free”
destiny is a lie, i am not idly standing by
legitimacy degridates the gate to fortune telling
do not buy what i am selling, He has overturned my tables
left me exquisitely unstable, i will acknowledge my disconnection
it is for your own protection, detection wanes when the heart is involved
this is no mystery for you to solve, worlds revolve around tortuous pain
gained in seeds of incontinuity, congruity is distorted
my mind extremely sorted, constructing explicit rains of bile
though i sometimes smile that lil girl grin
wrap me in my buckles, you know i will chuckle at myself
my cohort in crime, as slime is released from the wrist of deceit
completing the cycle of prophecy held within the dark of me
bills of indictment have been received, there is no reprieve
color me stained in the remains, these, my chronicles of exile…

~~~~~~~~~

“To live is to hurt others, and through others, to hurt oneself.
Cruel earth! How can we manage not to touch anything?
To find what ultimate exile?”

~ Albert Camus ~



©tk 3.16.2009